


A Gift

by painted_pain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_pain/pseuds/painted_pain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was not himself, drowning under guilt and shame; he was angry and desperate. The only thing that stopped him from sinking under was you, always you and his desire to set things right. His pained silence was deafening and it hurt you, even though it was never mentioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift

I could always see your pain, your anguish, when you ignored the world and busied yourself under the hood of your beloved car. Or when you drank whiskey straight from the bottle until you fell into unconsciousness. It pulled at my insides agonizingly, causing my heart to fall into my stomach. Despite the impossibility of such an action, my body reacted regardless.    
  
Sam was not himself, drowning under guilt and shame; he was angry and desperate. The only thing that stopped him from sinking under was you, always you and his desire to set things right. His pained silence was deafening and it hurt you, even though it was never mentioned.   
  
But I could see it, feel it, when your eyes dimmed and lost that mischievous twinkle that made everyone love you, when you clenched your hands by your side and fisted them so tightly as if to prevent Sam from slipping from in between your fingers. Once in a while, you would disappear from the house and when you came back your knuckles were torn and bloody, your eyes bloodshot and rimmed in red. It cut right through me when you did this, an unexpected slash of bright pain. You made me feel so many emotions and for that I was thankful. But what could I do to help you, to heal you? I was an angel, broken and diminished: I was not Sam.   
  
One day you drove me to this diner, a stereotype, identical to every other diner in the state, in the country. Despite this, you walked into the diner with a lightness in your step that I had not seen in a long time, your eyes green orbs alight with delight. A smirk danced playfully across your lips and, as always, every gaze in the room was drawn to you. You never acknowledged how you attracted people to you; how everyone instinctively knew that you were unique, one of my Father’s greatest creations. How could you not see this part of yourself when you showed me this every moment I was by your side? You never believed yourself worthy, never thought that you deserved to be saved.Y   
  
ou slid into a booth by the window so you could watch your car. This attachment was something I could never truly fathom. I followed you into the booth. I would always follow you.    
  
A young and attractive waitress made her way in our direction, her hips swaying and eyelids fluttering. I realised this was her attempt at seduction. I never did understand this mating ritual but it was intriguing to watch. When she asked you “What will you be having?” she looked only at you, in a possessive gaze that seemed wrong. Your response was to lick your upper lip and flash a sudden, brilliant smile that left me momentarily blinded. You shifted almost imperceptibly towards her, moving your shoulders to face her. Her response was to lean in, to be closer to you but also, I soon realised, to make sure her cleavage was visible. Your response was expected. Your eyes glanced downwards and then settled heavily on hers once more as you drawled, “Two slices of apple pie, sweetheart.” You rolled the last word off your tongue slowly, languidly. She giggled and walked away. Your eyes continued to follow her as I knew they would, full of appreciation.   
  
I watched the entire exchange with the pretence of detachment but in reality, I experienced a growing pressure in my chest. It clawed its way inside and sunk its talons deep into my heart, as if it never wanted to let go. This puzzled me greatly; one did not experience emotion in the heart, it was merely a muscle. The pressure increased and transformed into an exquisite pain that lodged itself firmly, talons digging deeper. I did not want this woman to remain at our table. She had received your attention in a way I was sure I never would. I desired her disappearance so desperately just so you would return your gaze to me. The intensity of this emotion was unexpected, I was stunned. You always made me feel so deeply. A furrow marred my brow and my arms folded themselves across my chest of their own accord to prevent it from splitting in two. Was this jealousy? Was it an emotion angels were not to feel? We were never to feel anything. But around you, only you, I found myself melting from the warmth of your gaze, dissolving under the strength of your words while your hands moulded me into something new.    
  
All this passed within an instant. You looked back at me with that smile still lingering on your lips and my frown melted away. My arms unfurled themselves. Your hands were clasped in front of you, resting on the table and my own hands itched to copy yours in perfect imitation. You had an ease in the human world that I lacked. I did not belong here.   
  
You leaned in towards me and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper: “The pie here is the best in the damn state!” You sat back, pleased with having imparted what seemed to you to be vital information, a veritable life lesson in culinary expertise. You had this ability to draw others in with just a word, a glance, a gesture. It was no wonder Sam loved you, adored you. He was cocooned in your world so often. Not all of us were so blessed.   
  
Our slices of dessert arrived then. You winked at the waitress, a wink that suggested thousands of possibilities we could never share. She blushed prettily and the pressure clawed its way back inside my chest. Maybe it had only reawakened. It did not leave until she did.   
  
You inhaled the aroma of your slice deeply and licked your lips in expectation. You picked up your fork and began eating it with such fervour that my mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles. I imitated your actions and inhaled the steam rising from the pie. It smelt like ripe apples, cinnamon and sugar; of wholesomeness, goodwill and love. It had been made with such care so it would taste and smell delicious, just for the simple moment of pleasure it would give to those who ate it. I closed my eyes, still breathing the sweet aroma and was filled with awe at the amount of love and devotion humans could give to something so finite, so temporary in its existence. It reminded me of you. You always took such pleasure in any moment of joy you could have. A small thing was all it required; your car, the songs you listen to, a slice of pie, a laugh from your brother. I never understood this before. All the years I had watched this Earth, I had never understood. But all it took was you.    
  
I opened my eyes to discover you had already devoured half your slice. You caught my gaze and said in pure delight “This pie, Cas, is freaking awesome!” Your eyes were filled with wonder and you returned to your pie with the same fervour as earlier. Warmth flooded through me and a light blossomed within my chest. I knew that in that moment I was simply happy.   
  
When you finished your slice, you let out a heavy, contented sigh and your eyes closed in bliss. You smiled and I smiled with you. It was only when your eyes flickered open that you realised that I had not touched my own slice of apple pie and you suddenly deflated. Your face became pinched and I felt empty, as if I had lost something incredibly precious. “You gonna eat it?” you asked me, quietly, and a bitter taste flooded my mouth, as if I had done something wrong. But the moment passed and you changed so quickly my head spun. You covered yourself in your protective shell of bravado, of brazen humour and confident, arrogant attitude. The change crawled over my skin and it burned like fire.   
  
“Your loss, dude.” You began to make your way out of the booth. I called your name softly and murmured “Wait.” You ceased your movement and looked at me blankly; everything buried beneath what Sam called your ‘poker face’. You stared at me but I refused to be intimidated by you, I loved you too much.   
  
The sudden knowledge shook me to the very centre of my being, settling heavy within my Grace and I let out the smallest of sighs. My heart soared and I finally understood. I understood everything I had felt, had done, had said.  _I love Dean Winchester,_ I thought and it felt right. My pulse raced and beads of perspiration formed on my hands and forehead. My chest was filled with so much love; my ribcage could barely contain it. This was love, human love. This was the gift my Father had given to mortals. I had watched for millennia, had seen this, but could never comprehend. It was a blessing from my Father. It was what I was fighting for.   
  
Eyes that I had unconsciously closed opened and I was seeing the world anew. Everything was fresher, more astonishing and more beautiful. But you were still sitting in front of me, unaware of my inner revelation and I knew I could not tell you. I felt pain, such pain. My chest collapsed and I felt weighed down. If I tried to fly, I would spiral to the ground, falling forever. But there you were, looking at me, waiting and I knew that I had to continue, despite my pain, my love, my desire. I could not lose you. Nothing had truly changed.   
  
“Why is it so important to you that I eat this?” I asked and you blinked rapidly. If my voice sounded hoarser than usual, you made no comment. “Just trying to bring you down to my level!” you joked. There was an uncomfortable pause and you shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” You spoke it bluntly, quickly. You spat it out like gunfire and the words pierced my skin. You tried to escape but I leaned forward and placed a hand on your arm. You met my gaze levelly but underneath the bravado and the pretence, I could see your panic. “Dean,” I repeated, commanding, yet pleading, “I do not understand.” It was the truth. There were many things on this earth that I did not understand. You were always one of them.   
  
You sighed as you repositioned yourself. You averted your gaze so you could not look into my eyes as you revealed the reasons behind your actions. Your hands were once again placed on top of the table except you would not stop from moving them. You clasped and unclasped your hands, drummed your fingers on the table and began twisting the bands on your wrist and the ring on your finger. It was rare I saw you so agitated. You were out of your element and I did not understand why. “Dean.” I repeated for the last time and I placed my hand on yours to stop the ceaseless movement. They were so warm and a wave of heat passed through me. I swallowed thickly and removed it.   
  
You cleared your throat then and began to explain, in stops and starts, your sentences full of pauses and hesitancy, your words broken and interrupted. “It’s just that you’ve done so much,” you tore your gaze from me, “for me...and – and for Sam.” You tapped your fingers on the table, trying to delay your explanation. You had no need for this reluctance. I loved you, even if you would never know, and I would always accept whatever you said. You continued slowly, “And I, ummm, wanted to do something,” you shrugged, “something for you.” You looked at me quickly and I saw your embarrassment but also your gratitude and it warmed me in places I had not realised were cold.   
  
You continued with an even greater unwillingness. “Cas, you’re someone I – I trust,” you played with the ring on your finger, ”with Sam, with my life, with everything...I mean, ummm, you’re my friend, a good friend,” you stared deliberately at the tabletop, “and I wanna make sure you’re happy.” The last sentence came out rushed and when you finished you ducked your head to avoid my gaze completely. You were embarrassed and uncomfortable when you had no need to be. After several moments of silence, when I had still not said a word, you looked up at me and I simply smiled. It was the only way I could fully express how I felt; I did not have the words, only this reflexive action. It was a smile that drew the corners of my mouth back as far as they would go, a smile that exposed my teeth, a smile that made my eyes crease at the corners. You looked surprised but you smiled back and my heart burst with light warmth that I finally recognised as joy.   
  
Gathering my courage, I leaned forward and placed my hand on yours, firmly; an experiment. This also surprised you but you did not pull back, you did not withdraw and I felt great triumph, as if we had overcome an obstacle that we had not known was there. I felt alive, bursting with hope, filled with love. I spoke then, with the greatest sincerity and said, “When you are happy, I am happy and that is all the thanks I shall ever need.”   
  
After a long pause, in which your gaze never left mine and your smile became so blinding I was sure would never recover, I finished by saying, “I trust you implicitly. It is a great honour and privilege to be considered your friend.” You huffed a small laugh and made a comment about how I need to learn to speak like a normal human being. I corrected you and reminded you that I was no human being but an angel of the Lord. But I did not truly mind because you had grabbed a tight hold of my hand and did not let go, even as you finished my slice of pie, even as the waitress collected the dishes. You did not glance at her. You eyes never left mine and my heart soared higher than ever before, higher and higher, yet I fell deeper and deeper. You never realised how deeply I loved you. You refused to let go of my hand even though everyone in the diner stared, even though I was Castiel, renegade angel of the Lord and you were Dean Winchester, the righteous man who would always deserve to be saved.


End file.
